


Golden Eyes and Saved Lives

by Analinea



Series: Worst Case Scenario [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bite, Canon Divergence, Hurt Scott, I wouldn't hurt tiny Scott that much, NO DEATH, Season 1 episode 1 AU, Stiles has magic, minor Stiles Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea
Summary: The bite doesn't take. Scott life is saved in an unexpected way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story goes out to triskelionalpha13 who gave me the idea! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (It started as a Worst Case Scenario, evolved into more of a what if, and now it's full on AU since it changes everything that happened next in the show, especially since Stiles has magic in this...but heh, it's still part of the serie :D)

The beam of the flashlight in Scott's hand roams the floor frantically. He has to find his inhaler, especially considering the trek back to his house he has to make. In this second, he doesn't know if Stiles attempt at protecting him for the Sheriff's wrath is worth it.

He freezes when then he hears it, then turns around quickly. Growling, movements in bushes. He doesn't see it coming, he doesn't really realize what's happening: everything blurs as he's thrown to the floor, breath knocked out of him. He doesn't see anything except dark shapes moving too fast. When it's over, he raises his head tentatively.

Just as he's about to get up, feeling the dead leaves crackle under his hands, something knocks him on his back and a searing pain in his side makes him scream. He doesn't have the time to understand what's happening before the pain eases a little and he hears something running away. He get a trembling hand on his side, rolling over to sit up, and he doesn't dare look down when something warm seeps between his fingers.

His breaths shorten, in fear and panic, and he's alone and– his thoughts are interrupted by a wave of pain rippling through his whole body, so intense he can't even scream. He passes out.

 

Derek heard the commotion. It's how he finds himself running in the wood in the middle of the night -not like he gets much sleep anyway- in hopes of catching something useful.

Suddenly, he smells it, and it makes him skid to a stop and recoil. This...this strong smell of blood and decay, of death, he knows it. He knows it from Paige. A part of him doesn't want to move any closer, to make this his responsibility again, to have to kill someone else no matter how much of a mercy it really is.

The other part of him hears the soft moan of whoever it is evolving quickly into sobs of pain and quiet whimpers. He can't let them die alone in the wood, in this agony.

He approaches through the trees, his night vision allowing him to step over branches and see...Laura's body, the other half of it. Another whine makes him turn away quickly, push down the grief and horror at seeing his sister's face staring into nothingness, and right there, a few steps away, there's a teenager writhing in the leaves. He'll have to come back later for Laura.

He crouches down to scoop the boy -no more than sixteen, god- up in his arms, aware of the bite under the fingers tightly clasped to the wound.

“No, please,” the kid moans, breaking Derek's heart. He promised himself to become colder, indifferent to other's, but he can't. Especially when the kid takes a deep breath and calls for his mother.

“I'm here to help you,” Derek softly lies. It's only half a lie but still, there's no real helping here. He thinks about his sister's phone, that he has in his pocket, and the new number he found saved in it: Deaton. It sounds familiar, and something tells him the man can be useful in this situation.

He gets the phone out and only hesitates a second before pressing the call button.

“Yes?” a man answers, and Derek is suddenly at lost as to how he's supposed to say this.

“I'm Derek Hale,” he says in the phone, “Laura's brother. She has your number in her phone.”

“Yes, I met your sister before she disappeared,” the man answers with something like condolences in his voice. It gets on Derek's nerves, but he holds out the growl rising at the back of his throat. “I knew your family quite well. What can I do for you?”

“There's a kid in the wood that was _bitten_...,” Derek stops for a second so the man, if he knows about werewolves, can understand the hidden meaning behind the words, “but he's not– it's infected. I'm taking him to my family's house, can you help?”

There's a silence on the line and Derek worries that the man is ignorant of the supernatural and confused, that he will tell him to bring the damn kid to the hospital, what could he do about it? But then Deaton speaks again.

“I'll be here in fifteen minutes.”

The call disconnects and Derek lets out a breath, looks back down again at the kid. He blocked out the sound of his cries while he was on the phone, but now it's all he can hear.

Once he has the kid in his arms, trying to ignore the coughs wracking the boy and the warm blood he feels running down his neck where his head is tucked, Derek runs back to the Hale house.

 

Deaton turns out to be a vaguely familiar face from Derek's childhood. “I was your mother's emissary,” he simply says before going to the kid laid down on the old blackened kitchen table, having mysteriously survived the fire. The room's only light comes from a couple of camping lanterns.

“Scott,” he hears the man whisper, and he guesses it's the kid's name. In the last minutes, he stayed half conscious, twisting and turning on the table. Derek knows that in a moment he'll be lucid, and it'll be the worse. The pain will increase and he'll beg for death.

Before Deaton can do more than examine the bite closely, Derek hears a voice outside calling “Stiles!” multiple times, and the way he sharply looks to the door makes Deaton turn to him questioningly. The guy outside is probably only looking for his dog -weird thing to do in the middle of the night- but then the voice gets closer to the house.

Less than ten seconds later, there's the sound of steps slowly climbing the porch's stairs, followed by another set of feet running up and by the sound of it blocking the other's way.

“Stiles,” the man whispers and apparently 'Stiles' is another human being, go figure, “snap out of it, it's not funny! We don't know who's inside, it's dangerous.”

Derek reacts too late to Deaton going to the door and opening it wide, revealing a man in a uniform on the other side. He looks over his shoulder and his hand goes automatically to his side, where his firearm is.

 _The Sheriff_ , Derek's mind supplies. Behind the man, who relaxes a bit at Deaton's sight and asks what the hell is happening in here, there's a teenager trying to get past the Sheriff's extended arm, eyes empty.

“Stiles ran out of the car after–” the Sheriff hesitates, and something stays unsaid, “and started running here. He doesn't answer my calls, I don't know what's come over him.”

The man looks over Deaton's shoulder directly at Derek, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Derek doesn't move, hides his recoil at the kid's scent. It's a mix of panic, puke, and petrichor. His aunt smelled like this -petrichor that is- and she could do weird things, he remembers. His mom told him she was a witch.

“Come in, John, and let your son come in too. I'll explain,” Deaton offers to the Sheriff, but his eyes are fixated on Stiles so the vet must have an idea in the back of his mind.

John steps in, and his head immediately turns to the sounds of Scott's cries. Stiles calmly walks to the wounded teen's side, eyes still staring into nothing. Deaton stops the Sheriff from getting closer.

“Can you tell me what the hell is happening here?” John exclaims, hand going back to his gun, voice laced with worry. “What's happening to Scott? Stiles?”

“Sheriff,” Deaton murmurs next to him, “Scott is badly wounded. And I believe your son felt Scott's distress and is here to help him.”

“Help him how?” John replies in anger and frustration, something Derek can't blame him for. Deaton stays mysterious in a confusing situation, and there's one kid dying on the table while the other puts his hand on his friend's chest slowly, like he's in a trance.

Derek stops listening to the Sheriff's frantic questions and Deaton's half answers, focuses on what's happening in the kitchen. There's a faint glow coming from Stiles' hands, and suddenly his head snaps back, making the others in the room go silent. Stiles seems frozen in place, muscles and joints locked, eyes glowing like his hands, and then he lets out a scream that makes his father try to get past Deaton, who holds him in place firmly.

On the table, Scott stops moving, back arched on the table, mouth open on a silent gasp. It's over as soon as it started and Stiles stumbles back a step before going limp. His dad is there to catch him before he connects with the floor. The scent of petrichor is stronger in the room, but the smell of death is gone.

What's alarming now is the irregular heartbeat of Stiles, how he doesn't so much a stir at the Sheriff soft calls of his name.

“You should drive him to the hospital,” Derek states, and he realizes it's the first time he's spoken since the Sheriff is here. The man's head snaps up to him, and Derek has to use all his will to keep himself from flinching at the glare.

“I'm going to get Stiles and Scott to the hospital, and you two are coming with me and explaining why the hell I found Scott bleeding on a table, what happened here, and why you let my kid almost kill himself.”

Derek wants to say that it's a bit of a dramatic way to put things, but then even if the Sheriff can't, he hears Stiles heartbeat going weaker while Scott's gets stronger. Deaton looks unapologetic. It's unnerving, because he may have done this to save one kid, but now another is hurt.

Derek and the vet nod without a word, and Derek goes to carry Scott while the Sheriff takes his son in his arms. Soon enough, they're in the patrol car, Derek squeezed between the window and Scott's unconscious form -he sounds like he's peacefully sleeping now.

The ride is silent. Derek lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when they're finally at Beacon Hills Memorials and nurses run to take care of both kids. Whatever he does, he will never stop being empathetic to other's suffering. He hates it.

And somehow, he has the feeling that from this night on, he's tied to these two kids; and that no matter his wishes to stay alone, he'll have help in searching the rogue Alpha.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think of this twist? Kudos and comments are the light of my day, and I'm sick so it's definitely gonna make me feel better faster :3


End file.
